


Green With Envy

by d0g-bless (d0gbless)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pidge is 16, SHIDGE, Shiro is 19, So much angst, spoiler Ulaz dies but hey we've all seen season 2, uliro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gbless/pseuds/d0g-bless
Summary: Ulaz’s flash drive device contained more than just the location of the Blade of Marmora.(Canon/Canon Compliant. Takes place after the events of "Shiro's Escape.")





	Green With Envy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PastelClark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelClark/gifts).



> For VLD Rarepair Exchange Week.
> 
> If the verb tenses seem off, there's a reason for that. Past tense implies it takes place in the past; present tense is set in the present. (There might be a few slip-ups here and there; sorry about that!)

Shiro’s voice cracks with grief. “I still have so many questions.”

Choking back a sob, Pidge types out the command to mute the bridge bug. (With the exception of all bedrooms and bathrooms, she’s bugged every room in the Castle.) Her fingers numb, and she welcomes the sensation. She prefers feeling nothing over feeling loss.

She sets her glasses—Matt’s glasses—on her dusty nightstand. Luckily, she’s allergic to pollen, not dust. Given the state of her messy living quarters, it’s a blessing. A canopy of tangled wires hang from the ceiling. In one corner, dirty plates with dried food goo bits pile high. Her trash nebula satellite takes up half the room. Occasionally a caterpillar she smuggled on board squeaks and glows. (Should Allura find it, Pidge plans to say it followed her. Besides, if Allura has her mice, why can’t the Paladins have pets, too?)

But there’s one spot she keeps clean. (Well, other than Green’s cockpit.)

With the swipe of a hand, Pidge pulls up the Castle’s computer. She’s still learning Altean and can understand most computer commands now. It asks for a password. (She’s recoded it so she has to go through three sets of encryptions, too.)

Once she types her answers in, the nightstand drawer pops open, dust free. In it is the original copy, laminated as a bookmark in her diary. (Hunk says he hasn’t read it a second time, but Pidge decided to ensure it wouldn’t happen again.) She studies Matt’s face and hers. Things were so simple then. Happy, even.

So then, why did this happen? Why her father? Why Matt? Why Shiro? Why did the Garrison fail to contact her and Mom? Why did the Garrison lie to her? Threaten to charge her with treason? Why did she run away and join the Garrison? Why did she stay with her team?

Like Shiro, she, too, has so many questions.

* * *

Over the next few quintants, Pidge feels Shiro tugging at the Paladins’ shared bond whenever Allura is near. It’s clear the conversation between Allura, Shiro, and Keith soured their relationships. The bond between the Paladins is fine. But everyone feels on edge when those three are in the same room.

The tension must be palpable enough that even Coran’s aware of the elephant in the room. (Even though he doesn’t know what an elephant is.) In this case, the elephant in the dining hall.

Ulaz. The name sticks in Shiro’s throat. Pidge feels it trying to bubble up then forced back down. Keith’s bewilderment churns in her belly. Although Pidge doesn’t have a bond with Allura, she can see the hatred in the Princess’s eyes.

Hunk belches. Some of the crew roll their eyes or grunt in disgust. Lance pinches his nose.

“Sorry, guys.” Hunk rubs the nape of his neck. “I’m getting indigestion from all this tension.”

“Bor da shake of my shense of shmell, thish needsh to shtop.”

Keith glares at Lance. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who nearly gassed us to death in Blue with a single fart.”

“Keith.” Shiro’s “dad voice” lacks its typical strength. This doesn’t hamper Shiro’s ability to stop arguments with one word. Keith clamps his jaw shut and crosses his arms. This earns him a snicker from Pidge. She can’t help it—he looks like a pouting toddler.

Shiro collapses into the last open seat. He props his elbows up on the table and buries his face in his hands.

The four other Paladins exchange worried glances. This isn’t like Shiro. He’s usually the first one up. (Technically Pidge is the first one awake since she never sleeps. But she’s not the first to get out of bed.)

“Perhaps Hunk’s sensitive stomach is correct.” Allura says each word with utmost care. “We should discuss that, that—Galra.”

“That Galra?” Shiro lifts his head. “That Galra had a name. _That Galra_ sacrificed himself to save me. To save us.”

Silver brows snap together. “Fine,” Allura concedes. “ _Ulaz_ , as you wish to call him, is dead. One less Galra in the universe is a good one by me.”

Keith’s lips draw back in a snarl. “How can you say that? We wouldn’t be able to be here if it weren’t for Ulaz. He set all this in motion.”

“And that’s all the more reason to be concerned, if you ask me,” she counters. “It could be that they tampered with Shiro’s memory. According to our own Hunk, it is possible.”

“I-I’m going to get more food.” With that, Hunk slinks back into the kitchen.

“I know Ulaz wouldn’t do that to me,” Shiro says, rubbing the nape of his flushed neck. “I can’t explain why I know that. I just do.” He pushes his full plate aside. “I’ll be in my quarters if anyone needs me.”

“Fine. Should any of you need me, I’ll be on the bridge.” Allura flips her cloudlike mane of hair over her shoulder and saunters away.

Lance smirks as Allura and Shiro exit the dining hall. He prods Pidge with a bony elbow.

“What was that for?” she asks.

He clicks his tongue. Three pitying little clicks. “I think Shiro’s got a crush.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lance. Ulaz saved his life.” Pidge pushes the bridge of her glasses back up to their proper resting place. How did Matt survive with these giant frames? “That’s the extent of this situation.”

“For someone who’s supposedly really smart, you’re kinda dense, Pidge.”

Pidge cracks a grin. “Yeah, says the guy who won’t stop hitting on someone who clearly has no interest in him.” She takes advantage of Lance’s spluttering to add, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to work on getting those coordinates Ulaz gave us.”

* * *

Dense? Dense?! Lance probably didn’t even know what density is, let alone have the capacity to use the word as an insult. Probably just something he heard Shiro or Coran say. Expanding his vocabulary to impress the princess. Not that Allura would be even remotely impressed. But would that deter Lance? Nope. Lance was the dense one here. After all, who else could crack through the most complex Galra computer systems? Not Lance.

“While that is true, Number Five, I think you underestimate Lance’s intelligence.”

Pidge’s face burns. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was thinking—no, talking out loud. I’m not crazy, I swear—“

“Nonsense,” Coran replies, holding out a hand. “In my experiences, the sanest people are the ones who talk to themselves. They’re also the most reliable.”

Words and questions fly from Pidge’s tongue. “Why? I can’t imagine someone who babbles being all that reliable. What if they betray you? Suppose they were in a hostage-type situation. Or a Galra prison. They’d probably reveal big secrets because they’re all alone in a cell—“ (Images of a bruised and bloodied Matt creep into her mind. She shudders.) “I can’t imagine those people are exactly reliable.”

Coran considers Pidge’s wordy reply with a furrowed brow and nod. “While those are excellent points, I see them as honest. And I’d prefer working with an honest person. Honesty is reliable.” He clears his throat. “How’s the coordinate-seeking going?”

“Going?” Pidge grins. “It’s already done.” Her smile falters a bit. “But there was another kind of file on that drive. It appears to be similar to the memory storage program that kept King Alfor’s memory intact. But it’s not the same file.”

“Ulaz left some memories behind?” Coran joins a cross-legged Pidge on the floor. He prods at her laptop’s screen, earning him a growl. “Impossible.”

“Don’t touch my equipment.”

Coran throws up his hands, surrendering to Pidge’s command. “I won’t, I won’t!”

With a shake of her head, Pidge mutters something about Alteans and their damn touch-sensitive, physical screen-lacking tech. “You guys never have to deal with finger prints and dirt on your screens.”

“Well, _I_ never did, but my great-great-great-great-grandmother did. After all, she did invent the first Altean touchscreen.”

Pidge’s eyes are glued to her flickering laptop screen. “Is there anything your distant relatives didn’t invent, Coran?”

“Voltron. That was Alfor’s doing. But we couldn’t have made it without our allies.”

“Like the Galra?”

Coran’s expression darkens. “Yes, like the Galra. But we didn’t share all our inventions with them, such as our memory storage system. No other alien race has ever been able to replicate our remarkable invention. It would be impossible for Ulaz to have a memory file.”

Then why was Ulaz able to leave a similar file type behind? The Galra must have had a similar technology. After all, Zarkon and Alfor had worked together once. Surely there had been an exchange of information between the two races. Therefore, it couldn’t be impossible. But she wasn’t going to voice the flawed logic in Coran’s information. “Too bad. I’m sure we could learn a lot from others if there was a shared system.”

“Indeed, it’s a missed opportunity. But I fear that people might exploit such a brilliant system for personal reasons.”

“Like revenge?”

Coran’s eyes twinkle with secret knowledge. “Love.”

The response takes Pidge aback. Love? Not for weapons, war, or espionage? Love? That was the thing Coran feared with memories?

She looks over her shoulder to Coran. “Shiro said not to send any information until we know how Zarkon’s tracking us. I’ll tell you what those coordinates are once we figure that out.”

“Most excellent work, Number Five.” He ruffles Pidge’s hair. “Keep it up.”

She turns back to the screen. A sly grin tugs at the corners of Pidge’s mouth. _Oh, I will._ She selects Ulaz’s memory files then types in a command. A window pops up:

 

> Convert to .mem files?
> 
> [Yes]   [No]

Pidge clicks Yes.

* * *

Forty-five doboshes later, all the files are converted. Pidge double-checks the ticker Coran gave her a little while back. Judging by the time, everyone should be in bed. Well, everyone except her. And maybe Shiro.

Pidge stuffs her equipment (laptop, charger, homemade Altean plug-in adapter, and Ulaz’s flash drive-like device) into her oversized hand-me-down backpack. (It still smells like pine needles, Matt’s AXE body spray, and peanut butter cookies. Like home.) Time to get moving.

She slips out of the lab and into the Paladin Quarters. She pauses briefly at each room, listening in for any sounds or signs of alertness. Yellow. Blue. Red. Green.

Black.

As she’d expected, the rooms before the Black Paladin’s Quarters are quiet. (Save for Hunk’s snores and the gentle hum of music in Lance’s room.)

Shiro’s room? Not so much. She hears him scream. “Ulaz! Ulaz! Ulaz! Come back. No, don’t leave me. Ulaz!” He’s sleeping, no, dreaming of Ulaz. And it sounds like a hell of a nightmare.

“ULAZ!”

Just what was Ulaz to Shiro? An enemy? A friend? A lover? There’s a sharp pain in her chest. It hurts enough she almost cries out. She bites back the sob and pushes on. Ulaz is dead. Ulaz doesn’t matter. The fact Shiro and Ulaz might’ve been… something doesn’t matter.

Except the weight of his memories in her backpack make it feel ten times heavier.

Maybe it does matter. But she’s going to learn more about Ulaz. No matter how awful things might be, she’ll do it.

As the shield of Voltron, it is her duty to protect the universe, her team—no, her family.

And to protect Shiro.

Shiro doesn’t need to know the things he’s gone through. She’s seen him freeze up in battle too many times. Slept beside him at night when he panics and flails about in nightmares. Shiro shouldn’t have to relive whatever it is he’s seen.

He’s gone above and beyond the call of duty to protect her family and her. She can defend herself perfectly fine. But she appreciates how much he cares about her. He asks what she’s working on and allows her to work on his arm when no one else will. She nearly loses sight of what she’s doing when he flashes her a smile—the one that’s just for her and no one else. She feels safe and warm in his arms in a way she never has before.

This is the very least she can do for him.

* * *

Pidge sits cross-legged on the chilly floor of the room where Sendak was once held for interrogation. She doesn’t trust the Castle’s main system to do this properly, even after Allura reset everything. She does, however, trust her laptop to handle this. She’s double, no, triple-checked the specs on her laptop. Reprogramming this sort of technology is risky, but she’s done it before.

She slips her headphones on, grateful that Lance hadn’t stolen them from her tonight. Pidge draws a deep breath. Experienced fingers take only two or three keystrokes to type in a command:

 

> <interrogate .mem: ulaz>
> 
>             <Tell me: “just what were you to shiro?”>

The screen goes blank. Pidge swears under her breath. This isn’t right, this isn’t what was supposed to happen, what the fuck is going on—

“I do not know what I was to him.”

Her eyes widen. _It’s him. Ulaz._

“But I can show you what he was to me.”

Her laptop hums back to life.

“Ulaz?” Pidge whispers.

Hundreds, maybe even thousands of voices roar into her headphones: “Champion! Champion!”

It takes her half a tick to realize her laptop’s playing video footage. It’s strange. The colors aren’t quite what they should be. They’re not vibrant, save for yellow and purple. The lighting contrast is unlike anything she’s ever seen. This was not filmed with technology she knows. _Wait. This isn’t filmed at all. I’m seeing through Ulaz’s eyes._ As always, her mind leaps at least five steps ahead, thinking of ways this could be used in the fight against the Galra. But would they be effective? Perhaps Ulaz might know.

But she has no way of asking him further.

_I still have so many questions._

“Greetings, Haggar.” Ulaz bowed to the famous Druid. (At least, Pidge assumes Ulaz bowed to her, as she sees only the skirts of her cloak for a moment.) “It is truly a surprise to have you standing amongst our Emperor’s medics.”

The corner of Haggar’s mouth twitched. “A surprise, is it?”

“Forgive me, I thought you would watch the match at his side. It is no secret you have his ear. His utmost confidence.”

“Perhaps it would be more accurate to say I am his ear,” Haggar replied. “For I am always listening.”

“Even in a crowded venue such as the arena?”

She nodded. “Especially in such a place. You hear many things in places like these.”

“Such as?”

“Champion refuses to kill his opponents. The Emperor is not pleased, nor are the crowds.” She smiled cruelly. “It is time to change the rules of the game.” An alarm sounded off. “Let the games begin.”

A far too cheerful commentator announced, “In one corner, we have our oldest opponent to date. Don’t let that old shriveled up Balmeran’s rickety joints fool you; he’s prepared to fight to the death.”

The poor creature looked anything but. He was the spitting image of Rax, if he was emaciated and ancient. Unlike Rax, the Balmeran’s eyes weren’t full of rage, but with fear. And a hint of resignation. He knew this was his last day of life.

The crowd booed and hissed. “Blood! We want blood!” Pidge’s stomach churns at the crowd’s cheer. How dare they use Shiro’s words like that. The words that saved Matt from this fate.

“Ah, it is blood you want? Well, blood you shall get!” The announcer gleefully cackled. “I am pleased to introduce you to Xledra. An arena favorite, she’s undefeated in the ring with the highest number of kills.”

Just watching Xledra makes Pidge tremble in fear. Xledra is—or was, if Shiro killed Xledra—a giant reptilian alien. An alien velociraptor. Her perfectly round scales reflected the surrounding arena with a slight distortion. It was like looking into a funhouse mirror. Pidge reminds herself to tell Lance that foureyes is not an insult anymore. And that five eyes might be better than two. Xledra’s first set of eyes are where they should be on a velociraptor: the head. Another set rested on both of her haunches. The final fifth eye observed Xledra’s surroundings from the tip of her whip-like tail.

“Champion!” Someone yelled.

Another screamed, “We want Champion!”

“Champion! Champion! Champion!”

“Oh, silly me!” The announcer cleared his throat. “How could I forget our undefeated pacifist of a Champion? Bring him on out!”

Metal doors rolled up in a slow, dramatic fashion. Pidge counts twenty-one people entering the arena: a score of armed Galra sentries marched forward, kicking up dust and dirt. Five sentries surrounded a gagged and cuffed Shiro on each side. Shiro’s scar was nowhere to be seen. He also didn’t have his cybernetic arm.

“Why so many guards?” Ulaz asked. “Xledra didn’t have even one.”

Shiro kicked a sentry’s poorly wired wrist, effectively snapping its hand off—and the staff it carried.

Ulaz leapt over the arena wall and landed with a dusty thud. “Let me help you,” he told the single-handed sentry.

“No!”

Pidge shakes at the sound of Sendak’s bark. She takes a deep albeit shaky breath. _He’s gone, Katie. He won’t hurt you. He won’t hurt Shiro._ Her fingers trace familiar keys on her laptop: K. E. R. B. E. R. O. S. (Maybe those letters didn’t make for the best grounding technique, but they always reminded her of her true mission. That was enough to push the panic attacks away sometimes.)

“Excuse me?” Ulaz’s contempt for Sendak was palpable in his tone.

“Are you truly Galra? Have you already forgotten our great leader’s mantra? Only the strong survive here. Or has your work as a medic weakened you so much you no longer care for only the strong?” Sendak kept talking, but Ulaz’s gaze fixated on Shiro. He looked over Shiro’s arms first, probably observing his muscles; then his broad shoulders. And a cautious glance into Shiro’s handsome gray eyes (Pidge feels her cheeks burn red at her thoughts).

“Very well, Sendak. I will leave your sentry as is.” Ulaz hopped back over the wall and returned to his spot. “Where were we, Haggar?”

Haggar smirked. “Champion is unpredictable. And that is what makes him dangerous.”

 _That is where Haggar was wrong._ It’s Ulaz’s voice. _It is not his unpredictability. In fact, Shiro was—and is—incredibly predictable._ _Keep watching. But it is not for the eyes of the weak._

Pidge snorts. She can handle whatever it is that she’s about to witness.

“Now, I know what all of you are thinking,” the announcer said. “Three? Isn’t that unusual? And you are correct! Because this is not your average match. Everyone in that arena is fair game. The last one standing is the winner. Let the fight begin!”

The crowd roared louder than before.

Shiro, now gag- and cuff-free, ran forward to snatch the staff he’d made the sentry drop. Sure, it wasn’t a sentry’s laser gun, but it was something. And something was better than nothing.

The poor old Balmeran did something Pidge wouldn’t have recognized until recently: he started digging.

During one of their recent trips to the Balmera (at Hunk’s insistence, of course), Shay had explained one of the Balmeran funeral rites to the Paladins. The Balmera required an exchange of energy from its people when creating crystals. As a result, many of the Balmeran’s celebrations and festivals centered around this exchange. Funerals were no different.

“When a Balmeran knows they are near death, they will bury themselves alive. This allows Balmera to absorb their quintessence. Since we are made from the Balmera, to the Balmera we must return,” Shay had said. “It has always been our way.”

In simpler terms, this Balmeran knew he was about to die.

Xledra’s head whipped around to the old Balmeran. All five eyes narrowed, calculating a plan: finish the weak first. She snarled, revealing eroding fangs and rotting gums. Splutters, gags, and coughs reverberated throughout the stands.

Ulaz was no less immune than the rest of the audience. His eyes watered (judging by the unclear vision on Pidge’s screen). “Poison.”

The delight dawning on Haggar’s wrinkled countenance made her look decafebes younger. “Let’s just say the undefeated Xledra asked me for a favor. I haven’t found anyone willing to test this concoction until she begged me for help. And someone needs to put Champion in his place. He can’t let everyone live.” A gnarled finger pointed at the on-going battle. “Watch.”

Shiro followed Xledra’s lead. He charged toward the Balmeran, staff held in a white knuckled grip. His pace remained steady, with no sign of slowing down. Finally, Shiro stood there. His chest heaved with each breath. He raised his staff and—

“No, no, no,” Pidge says. “Shiro would never, ever kill anyone.”

—crushed the Balmeran’s skull in one blow—

“Not on purpose. He’d never, ever do that on purpose.”

—only for Xledra’s venomous coated fangs to sink into Shiro’s arm.

Pidge closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to see anything more. But the memory continues.

She hears Xledra’s screech, Shiro’s screams, her acid searing his flesh arm. Something hits the ground with a dull thud. Medics panicking. “How can we stop the bleeding?”

“Should we let him die?”

“No,” Ulaz snapped. “He must live. Haggar has sent us an arm—“

“Knock me out. I don’t want to feel this, let me die, please—“

There are more screams. Bloodcurdling cries of “Let me live!”

“I didn’t want to do this! My arm… I’m not doing this!”

And then—

Silence. Sanitary, hospital, funeral-like silences. Those kinds of silences.

When Ulaz’s voice breaks it, it’s a dramatic shattering of silence. _I wish I could have stopped him from being forced to kill. I truly do. It is the one thing I regret. But I will say, it amazed me that Shiro never intentionally killed anyone. He could have succumbed to killing someone, and he would never have experienced agony._

_That is why I fell in love with him._

_He gave me and the universe hope._

“Champion, you must eat.”

Pidge cracks open an eye.

It’s a cell. Shiro’s cell. Well, it’s Ulaz standing outside Shiro’s cell, separated by a clear, thin wall.

It’s not cramped, but it’s certainly not spacious. (Well, for Pidge it would work.) Without the Pidge-sized cot (it has no mattress, but a substance that looks suspiciously like straw), there would have been just enough room for Shiro to walk six or seven paces across.

Shiro rested on his side, back facing Ulaz. (Pidge silently admits to herself Shiro had—and still has—a very fine backside.)

“Better me than them.”

“You must be strong, Takashi Shirogane.” Ulaz sounded as exhausted as Shiro did. “So eat.”

Shiro rolled over before Ulaz said the final syllable in his name. “Shiro.” He probably hadn’t heard his real name in quintants.

“I can’t eat.” Shiro shuddered. “I killed people today. People like—

“Correction. You are _forced_ to kill people. People like Matt. Or like Katie.”

_Like me?_

“How did you know her name?”

“You call for her in your sleep. Crying out for her. Apologizing to her.”

A blushing Shiro glowered at him. (Pidge fans her face—she’s redder than Shiro is in Ulaz’s memory.) “Don’t you ever speak her name.”

“Don’t you ever threaten the top medic,” Ulaz countered. “It is an unwise thing to do. So shush and listen to me. Very carefully, Shiro. You must do and say as I tell you to. Otherwise things around here will be much more difficult for you than you already are. You have people who root for you. And not just for your role as Champion. You give many hope. So you must live. Do you understand me?”

Shiro nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Very well, then, Shiro. I will see you soon.”

_This is when I knew I had to break him out. The Blade of Marmora were growing impatient with me; they have little time or patience for feelings. When I fell for the person I was supposed to free, I was of little use to them. But my mission came first. It always did._

_I am proud to have sacrificed my life for the mission and for Shiro._

 

> </tell me: “just what were you to shiro?”>
> 
> </interrogate .mem: ulaz>

* * *

_Lance was right,_ Pidge thinks. _I am dense._

Only now does she realize she has a crush on Shiro, but this whole thing was never about Shiro. This was about her feeling insecure and envious.

And now, she wonders if she can even look Shiro in the eye at breakfast. Should she tell Shiro about Ulaz? That he let him suffer for so long, but had feelings for him?

She shakes her head.

No. She won’t. She’s the shield of Voltron. It is her duty to protect those she loves.

No matter the cost.


End file.
